I'm a firm believer in the old adage "God won't give you more than you can handle." But...
Since MCHN (my curly haired niece) joined us just 5 short days ago, here's what I've had going on:
My little guy (you remember, the one I'm completely in love with who can do no wrong??) had a fever and the overall crankies for the first two days, then puked off and on for Day Three. Between clinging to my leg, whining and swinging random toys at MCHN to get her to stay away from him, it hasn't made for as great of a bonding time for him and his cousin as I had hoped.
My angel of an almost-four-year-old daughter (and if you didn't catch the sarcasm there, you need to get to know me better!) spent Night Three puking - and yes, I do mean the ENTIRE night. Luckily she woke on Day Four back to her normal angel self. (Did you catch it that time??)
Day Four was good. Thank you God! But, I didn't know you were just setting me up...
Day Five hit me hard. Whatever bug my kids had settled deep within me and began wreaking havoc before breakfast was even over. In between my mad dashes to the bathroom, I noticed my little guy was back to clinging, whining and swinging toys along with an added runny nose, cough and general grumpiness. My otherwise cheery and sweet curly haired niece decided NOT to take the little guy's bullying and yelled back at him, swung at him like the bases were loaded, and fought to cling to the very leg little guy had been clinging to for the past few days. I had to peel them off like leeches when it came time for my next mad dash, neither of them understanding why in the world I couldn't just give them the attention they so desired. If only kids came with the understanding that yes, mommies do get sick and sometimes they have to take care of themselves first. But nooooooooo...these two sweet little angels were obviously not understanding mommy's predicament on Day Five, nor my mad dashes to the bathroom. And to tell you the truth, I wasn't understanding too much about it either.
As I lay on the couch, listening to the whining and disciplining what swinging I could muster the energy for, I wondered how in the world I was supposed to handle all this while fighting the flu. To make matters a little worse, I'm one of those people who don't get sick, so when I do, it's a big deal. I try to push through it (thinking surely it will just go away!) and continue taking care of everyone else. Before I knew it, I stood for yet another run to the bathroom, paused to peel the little ones off my leg and felt like I was going to faint. Excuse my language but, SHIT!! I can't faint now!! In my panic to figure this out, I wondered if you put two 20 month olds together, will they figure out how to dial 911?? No probably not, but speaking of the phone...
I grab it and make my way to the bathroom. I call my husband and let him know I may not make it through this round of puking-n-pooping (sorry for the details, but how else will you really understand!?). He asks some questions that I don't recall and I tell him I have to go. I mean, it's hard to hold the wastebasket to puke in while sitting on the toilet and still find a free hand (and the energy and focus!) to have a conversation too. This puking-n-pooping (PNP) stuff is serious business!! I'm sweaty and I start seeing dark spots. I try to rationalize: Option 1) If I lay on the bathroom floor, I won't hit my head when I faint, but I'm sure there will be quite a mess to clean up afterwards. Option 2) Stay on the toilet, wastebasket to my mouth, and try to fall as gently as possible when the time comes. I mean, there is a rug on the floor to cushion my head from the ceramic tile, but there's also wooden step-stool and magazine rack that I'd have to fall strategically in between. But really, the fall isn't that far, right??
Well, I lived to write about it, so you must gather that everything is okay. I didn't faint (thank God!) and when I called my husband back to try to answer whatever questions he was asking, he said he was already on his way home. Thank God again! The day didn't get much better, but it didn't get much worse either. I trudged slowly through the rest of the day, laying on the couch to rest every chance I got, and went to bed as soon as the little ones were down. Who, by the way, did not bloody themselves OR each other during my whole ordeal, so someone must have been keeping an eye on them (thank you God!).
So, the conclusion that I've come to is that God must think I'm pretty darn strong to handle what He's dished out so far in these last five days. Maybe He's reminding me of my strength because I doubted it on Day Three. But let me tell you, I'm done doubting because this Guy does not mess around!!
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